Time Crunch

I have discovered a new route to work, a route that leads to much happiness. When I first moved into the Ho' after commuting from home home for a year, I was ecstatic to cut my commute down to an hour at the most (round trip) from 3 hours. Three hours is very long for a commute. But do you know what's better than a 25 minute commute? Working from home. I wake up at 9am, roll out of bed, and walk 3 feet to my desk. Do you know when the last time I woke up at 9am was? Well, er, other than the accidental oversleep last Sunday, it'd been at least 5 months. And since I'm home home, there's no deep forage for appropriate breakfast foods or eating tuna mixed with rice. The kitchen is teeming with fruits and pastries. The whole set up is glorious. If only I was motivated to do more work.

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Mother just walked over from her computer in her study to inform me that a childhood friend of mine wanted to reconnect (mother's exact words were "write letters to me," though I'm not sure that's what chum meant). I last saw this girl when I was 5 or 6 years old, so I don't understand why she has a better recollection of me than I do of her (or why she's corresponding with Mother), but this seems to happen to me a lot. But clearing my mind of information like names of childhood chums is a price to pay for retaining things like the differences between the Wilcoxon Mann and Kruskal-Wallis test, the status of the ScarJo-Reynolds marriage, and of course, the hierarchy of Whitecastle's favorite fonts. "Is it OK if I give her your email?" "Yeah, sure." "OK. I will forward you the email when I have the time." I don't know how Mother forwards emails. But it sounds like an arduous process.